All or Nothing
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: You get those Self Insert stories that see your heroine land in a well known, pure-blood family, or hell, even a half-blood family. Not me. I ended up a muggle-born circus performer with a habit of knowing the future. A habit Tom Riddle is more than happy to abuse.
1. Part 1-1

**All or Nothing**

**_Part 1.1_****  
**_A Beginning_

I'd not known what to expect upon dying. I knew the whole mechanics behind it better than most people, a sound understanding of the human body can see to that. The heart stops beating, the blood flow around the body halts, the brain ceases getting it's oxygen. It starts dying, grasping fruitlessly for a method to stay alive that just isn't provided.

Obviously there's a little more to it than that, all sorts of fancy stuff about synapses and chemical imbalances, but that's not important right now.

What I figured out as I was dying, was that the body was an incredibly fragile thing. Everything worked in harmony, and if one thing failed, such as the heart in my case, then everything collapses inwards.

I died after being hit by a car, lying in a hospital bed with the people I love surrounding my bedside. Not that I knew that at the time of course, I was very much unconscious and would not be waking up any time soon. Still, I like to think of it as a nice way to go; I could always have bled out in the centre of the road instead.

I'd always been a bit of a fanatic when it came to fiction, and before I died, I'd been very much focused on the Harry Potter books. A second before the car would hit my body, I'd humourlessly thought what it'd be like to be reborn into the world I was reading about.

I never actually expected it to happen.

.

As I slipped to my death in one world, my eyes opened to a new one. It would be several months before I'd be able to clearly see anything, thanks to the all around useless baby body I'd found myself in, but it was rather clear I'd been reborn. The short, tiny gasps that was my newborn body breathing for the first time, the shock of cold air that rattled down my wind-pipe and swirled around my lungs was too strange, too realistic, for this to be a hallucination.

There's only one picture of me as a newborn, seeing as photos were not exactly easy to produce during the time period I was reborn into, and they were very much black and white too. But years later I would look down at the image and be able to compare the little baby face staring back at me with my own. Within this photo, I am resting within the arms of my mother.

Odette Labelle, of the blonde hair and blue eyes, was very much the typical loving mother in attitude. She doted on me, the love shown clearly upon her face as she smiled out at the camera whilst holding me close. My father, one Benjamin Labelle was the poster-boy for a man of the mid 1920's. Even though both my parents worked, he brought home the most money and was rather distant towards me, like most fathers of that time were. I would never hold it against him, I'd had two very loving parents in one life time, and if my new father wished to present a front, who was I to say otherwise?

.

It took me a year to figure out several things.

The first realisation that I had came about the same time my eyesight finally developed past the blurry forms that'd been haunting me since birth. I had been able to recognise sounds for a while, but none of them were like the typical household. There were times when father would leave for a bit, and I'd worked furiously to figure out why. It was quite obvious once I could actually see around me.

I'd been born to a circus couple.

My father ran a circus, and had married his most talented acrobat, my mother. Quite the shock, certainly. And it presented quite the problem, because if I was in the Harry Potter world, then how was I suppose to make an impact out there, when I was stuck under the roof of a travelling big-top?

The second revaluation that came was one that almost brought joyous tears to my eyes.

I was magical.

I had been wondering for a very long time, since birth actually, what the warm tingles were that sat behind my solar plexus. A few years later, I would come to the conclusion that since I'd never had magic before, -in my first life that was- I was incredibly sensitive to it's presence. But, from the moment I recognised it, I was far more interested in playing with this new and exciting toy. There were so many possibilities that it was hard to focus on anything else.

I'd allowed myself to develop as quickly as I could, and was crawling and walking earlier than most. What was more irritating however, was that I hadn't just been born into a circus instead of some pure-blood family -which would have made things a hell of a lot easier- no. I'd been born into a French circus. Where everyone spoke, first and foremost, French.

So, not only would I have all but bellowed something was wrong with me should I start speaking fluent English, but I had to learn French, the hard way. That, along with my fondness for playing about with my magical core, saw to it that my earliest years were occupied.

One of the last big realisations of my early childhood was that I wasn't just magical. I had also lucked out in regards to ability because I had visions of the past and future.

The first one came about at the tender age of two, where I saw myself walking through the halls of Hogwarts, a ratty book tucked neatly under one arm and long honey hair tied up in a high pony-tail. Considering I'd ended up in such useless location, this was a grand relief, because if asked, it would explain my knowledge of things to come.

And it could be such a useful gift too, should I ever managed to get some form of control over it.

.

I was four years old when Mother decided that it was time I started learning the tricks of the trade. Which basically meant that I was to learn to become an acrobat. I saw no reason to turn the opportunity down, because I would certainly never know when that kind of skill could come in handy. It was better to have and not need, than to need and not have.

So, between my forever expanding knowledge of the French language and my experiments with my magic -to which I'd began to get my accidental magic gearing more towards being intentional- I learnt how to perform. I learnt how to walk upon a tight-rope, how to fold my limbs into what I'd once thought impossible positions, how to balance upon one hand and not sway dangerously whilst twisting my body about.  
In my past life I'd not cared more for physical fitness beyond disallowing a full muffin-top to form. I could see now that'd been the wrong philosophy to take, simply because I felt so much cleaner and healthier now. How in this life my body could move with a fluidity and grace that before I'd only ever dreamed about. It was certainly very freeing, and I'd never allow myself to go back to how I was.

The fact that there was no internet around here to distract me from reality probably played a big part in that too.

.

I was nine when father not only decided that I was good enough to preform in the show, but that we would also be taking our show on the road. Well, further on the road than what we already were. He planned on visiting several countries, but the first and foremost one was indeed England.

I was beyond ecstatic at the news, for I'd made no secret of my love for the island country. Mother would joke that I should have been born to another circus within that country, and was always too buy laughing to notice I didn't disagree with her.

Don't get me wrong, I was rather attached to the woman, but never more so than I'd been to the woman that'd raised me in my first life.

We spent several weeks practising before we boarded a boat for England. I made a rather good act for a nine year old, if I said so myself. On the tight-rope, I could make it across without so much as a wobble, unless it was intended of course. Sometimes, I'd even fake a fall, hooking my foot around the rope at the last second and completing a full spin till I was standing straight again. None of the other acrobats could do that.

Simply because I was cheating.

I'd worked out ways to use my magic because all I needed was pure intent behind it, so I could perform things that no one else could. I could do things that no one else could. My father would always jokingly ask how I managed it, but I'd just smile and tap my nose, like it was only a tiny little secret that he didn't need to know about. And he was more than happy to leave me this 'tiny secret' because it made me, and therefore the show, interesting.

We made it to London, but the circus didn't see it's first show. Simply because not long after it was set up, one of the drunken layabout upon the street accidentally set the big-top tent on fire.

Thanks to magic, I was the only one to make it out alive.

* * *

My limbs were cold, even stuffed deep within the woolly confines of my jumper. It was a wretched thing, made by a half-blind woman that'd once come to see our show, all wonky weaving and it was indeed several sizes too big, falling to my knees. In the colder months, I'd taken to wearing it over the all in one leotard I performed in. Thus, when the fire hit, it was the only thing I'd been left with. Ugly it may be, but it was still the warmest thing I owned, so I guess I was lucky in that respect.

The cold was snapping at my nose and ears, which had cycled from pale, to a rather fetching shade of pink, before finalizing on an incredibly blotchy red that began to spread across my cheeks. Shivers were running through my body, and the thin circus pumps upon my feet were no match for the snow that'd been falling for the past half an hour.

I'd ran as soon as the blaze had finished and it'd become evident no one had survived but me. I'd been isolated within the big-top at the time, because the adults were having a meeting about finances that they didn't see fit to include me in. So by the time I'd managed to wrap my magic around me in such a way that the flames only tickled, I hadn't noticed no one else had made it out.

.

Stumbling on the cobble-stone street, I looked up and cringed at the sight of a policeman stood upon the pavement. The awkwardly shaped helmet upon his head was a dead give-away to his profession, and the second he spotted me I knew exactly where I was going.

After all, there was only one place for a lonesome child wondering about in the cold when the dark of night was nearing.

A thought raced through my head as the policeman continued to assess me. If I were to be forced into an orphanage, I might as well take it into my own hands and finally start getting somewhere in my goal to shake things up.

Swallowing down my pride, I marched over to the man, coming to a stop a respectable three feet away before shuffling my feet about nervously.

"Excuse me sir," I murmured, English now accented by the copious amount of time I'd spent in France, "could you please point me to Wool's orphanage? I appear to have gotten lost." Best to go with the fact I was already a resident, because then he wouldn't cart me off to the nearest one that way. That'd set things back several paces and I couldn't let that happen. Not when life had thrown me a chance to start my plan earlier than what I'd previously anticipated.

The bobby's dark brows rose as I finished off, blue eyes narrowing slightly before he finally offered a nod. Clearly he'd taken in the obvious state of my dress, the mismatched clothes that couldn't belong to anything other than an orphan. I was thankful that the legs of my leotard did not hold any sparkly pieces like the torso did, because otherwise it'd have been obvious I was from the circus.

"I'll show you the way lass."

.

The policeman was indeed kind enough to walk the whole thirty minutes with me, surprising really because most men of this time period never saw fit to pay much attention to young children, never-mind help them out. I was lucky, and made sure to show my gratitude when we came upon the street that housed Wool's at it's dead end. I jogged the rest of the way, heading towards the towering iron gates and the unusually tall wall that surrounded the building. Not to keep anyone out, but to keep the orphans in without a doubt. A wall was a lot harder to climb at ten feet than it was six.

The gates were thankfully still open, not to be locked before sundown without a doubt, to make sure all the children got back. I guess if you didn't make it back before sunset then you were on your own for the night.

Frowning, I started forwards, ducking under the washing line that housed all the orphans' gear situated at the front of the building. It was certainly an imposing building, cold and solid in structure. Very much unlike all the delicate architecture of Paris that I had seen the past nine years. The door followed the same design as the rest of the building, large and characterless, uninviting. The wood was solid, as shown when I rapped my frozen knuckles against it and the sound echoed around.

A stern looking woman, old before her time, opened the door and peered down at me with hawk like eyes. Evidently she'd been waiting for one troublesome orphan or another. Though it was clear she wasn't surprised to see a new face, she did look a tad annoyed at the -very much real- possibility of having another mouth to feed.

"Yes?"

"My family's dead," I muttered, looking up at her from beneath my thick fringe of blonde hair. Her eyebrow rose slightly, probably at the French accent, but nevertheless opened the door a bit more so I could shuffle inside. Hard wooden flooring saw to it that the woman's high heeled shoes echoed as she walked, a loud demanding sound that worked wonders in making me feel even more like a child. My head was racing with possibilities of what I could do here, what I could change. Or rather, if I could change, and if I'd want to.

.

The woman introduced herself as Mrs Cole, shoving a paper form under my nose and demanding I fill out the boxes with as much information as I could. Whilst I had little idea towards my current height and weight, I did know my name -Cecilia Anne Labelle- my birth-date -7th June 1926- and my place of birth, good old Paris.

If Mrs Cole was surprised by the information I gave her, it never showed upon my face, instead she curtly informed me that the first floor was where all the girls slept and that I would be housed within room twelve, who's occupant had left the week before.

I followed after the woman as she led me down a dark corridor, lit only by cheap candle light now that the sun had gone down. Several girls poked their heads out to see what was going on, but I made sure to keep my head down till we stopped before the door to my depressingly dull room. After nine years in a colourful circus, it was a bit of a cultural shock.

"You will seek me out to be provided with uniform tomorrow, breakfast is served from half six till seven on weekdays, and seven till half past on weekends. If you have any more questions, then ask the other girls."

"Of course," I murmured, even though the rather cold woman was already halfway down the corridor by the time I'd been able to gather my wits to reply.

Shakily, I walked over to the bed and sat down, burying my head within my hands. Okay, I'd gotten to Wool's orphanage. Step one complete.

I really should have considered thinking up a step two.

* * *

**Something I started up on my i-Pod, considering I've not allowed myself near my computer whilst finishing stuff for university. This'll probably be the only thing I'm updating until May 17th, so sorry if you're waiting on other stories, but I have crap to be doing. **

**And honestly, I wanted to write a story where an OC doesn't get to change Tom, but Tom changes the OC. A look into how it'd work out if Tom had the advantage of an OC who knew the future. With plenty of moral dilemmas for Cecilia.**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	2. Part 1-2

**All or Nothing**

**_Part 1.2_****  
**_Daring Do's_

_x_

_Cecilia_

Upon spending my first night in the orphanage, I came to the realization that one of the things I missed most about the circus was falling asleep by the fire pit. I missed the warmth of the flames that used to dance across my face, leaving an almost orange glow invading my vision, even from behind closed eyelids.

Wool's was dark and cold on a night, the wind and sleet howling against the window as the frame rattled in protest. The blankets were thankfully rather on the thick side, regardless of their worn appearance. I was able to discard my leotard and woolly jumper to sleep in just my undergarments after warming my bed up, seeing to it that I'd have a piece of clothing that was somewhat clean to wear the next morning. I'd pulled my hair from its confinements before sleeping, the dark blonde strands littered with soot from the fire and would have no doubt dirtied my new sleeping arrangements had it been white bedding.  
Thankfully, it was a dull grey, which saw to it that the remnants of the fire didn't stand out too much.

Sleep didn't come easy though, regardless of if I was able to make myself somewhat comfortable in my new surroundings. My mind was whirling with information and possibilities. All I knew for certain was that my parents in this life were dead, meaning that I had more freedom than before, but now I also had to start looking into ways to provide for myself.

Maybe when it warmed up outside I could take to becoming a street performer, if such a thing exists during this time. If not, I'd have to look around and see if I could get any work preforming in venues, even joining a London based circus act would be okay if it meant I got some form of money. I was going to need it for Hogwarts, even if they did have an orphanage fund going. It was something to start looking into once winter passed by, that much was for certain.

.

Morning came quicker than what I'd have expected it to, the sun wasn't even rising when I was awoken by the noise from the corridor outside my room. No doubt the other orphaned girls getting up and ready for the day.  
Quickly running the date through my head, the twentieth of December, thus making it a Friday, I was quick to figure out it had to be around half six in the morning if everyone was getting up for breakfast.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed, cringing at the frozen wooden floor-boards before I quickly wiggled back into my leotard. Pumps back on my feet, I grabbed for my woolly jumper and threw that on too, peeking out the room after I'd done so. I'd wash after getting my new -well, it'd be new for me, but would probably have been worn already by someone else- uniform. I grabbed at the bobble on the side of my desk, wrapping my hair up into a high ponytail before once again sneaking a glance at what was going on outside of my room. Girls in a truly awful uniform were shooting around, obviously eager to get to the dining room to get food. I looked down at the pale pink that was covering my legs, the decorative golden thread that detailed the ends of the material around my ankles.

So much for not standing out. If the fact I was a new face wasn't enough, then the colourful blotch I was upon their grey uniform would all but scream my appearance to them.

Regardless, there wasn't much I could do about that, so I stepped out and followed after the majority in order to hunt down Mrs Cole for a uniform of my own.

Because I really wanted a change of clothes, even if it was that awful looking stuff.

.

I found her after breakfast. Apparently all the girls got up early to get as good a helping as they could, because ten minutes after we arrived the rowdiness of the boys became apparent as they flooded into the room, battling it out for the best portions and the best seats, though they were quick to quieten when Mrs Cole appeared. She dropped three sets of uniform upon the table I had to myself, not offering up any words and instead heading up to what appeared to be the best table in the dining room for her own meal.

A frown crossed my face as I sat there, wearily watching the other children that looked over but didn't so much as stand to approach me. I was scanning their faces, looking for what was sure to be the only familiar one amongst them, but I couldn't spot him.

At one point, my eyes rested upon a boy with chestnut hair and a freckle covered face. Dennis, my mind offered and I could see him clutching at a girl's -Amy's- hand as they looked around a cave wide eyed, trembling at another broody orphan stared back at them, expressionless.

As soon as it was there, the image was gone, filtering away and I was sat back in the dinning room, staring at the happy go lucky brown haired boy that had no idea what he was in for. He was perhaps a year older than me and he often joined in with the other boys to taunt Riddle when they could gather up enough courage. I knew that I shouldn't have known this, that it hadn't been in the book and that it was my magic supplying me with this information, but I still struggled to wrap my head around it.

I'd been getting vague feelings about people for years, little tidbits of information that I had no way of knowing, that I shouldn't know. It'd been a big help to my father, because I'd always been able to tell who was going to try and cheat him out of money, or if someone was lying to his face. I was good at that, at knowing things I shouldn't and that'd made me more valuable than just a circus act.

"You're in my seat."

* * *

_Tom _

There was a girl sat in his seat. Sat up to his table. A new girl was in his seat.

Frowning, Tom felt his fingers curl a bit harder around the plate he was carrying, doing his best to ignore the meal upon it. He was here to eat his fill and then leave, there was no point in sticking around in the dining room afterwards. The rest of the orphans were finally terrified of him, they finally knew of their place, beneath him. Oh sure, there was the occasional group that'd try to get back at him after they'd worked up whatever measly courage they had left over, scraping what they had left from the bottom of the barrel. But he'd always send them packing, running away with their tails between their legs. That was, if he allowed them to run.

Eric Whalley's broken leg had nothing to do with him of course. There was only a correlation between the fact he'd elbowed Tom in the corridor before tripping over his own clumsy feet and taking a tumble down the stairs. Tom was completely innocent of doing anything to the boy. After all, how could he have possibly pushed him when he'd been all the way down the corridor when the boy fell?

Billy Stubbs had learnt his lesson after he'd purposely stepped on Tom's snake, the boy had never been able to look at a rabbit since his own had been found hung from the rafters, skinned of course. The best part had been that Mrs Cole saw no reason to waste the carcass and they'd had a little rabbit meat with their dinner the next day.

Even though he was clearly the suspect for what had happened, there was no way that he could be pinned to the crime. He'd grown smart after the first time he'd put the bullying orphans in their place and had in turn gotten a punishment himself from Mrs Cole. He wasn't going to be letting that happen again, so now, he left no evidence. Made sure he wasn't caught when something unfortunate happened to another orphan. Apparently though, no one had seen fit to inform the new girl about him.

She stared back with heavy lidded, dark brown eyes. They widened slightly at the sight of him, that he'd addressed her perhaps, before narrowing slightly.

"Sorry," she finally murmured, shuffling up down the bench of the table and dragging her plate along. Not a lot of food remained on it. She was dressed strangely, with a strange accent he'd not heard before, clearly she was fresh of the streets by her state of dress. The jumper was atrocious, a monstrosity, and the tight material that covered her legs was weird, not something he'd seen before. Even if she'd moved slightly though, that didn't change the fact she was still sitting at his table. His table was safe, none of the other orphans dared to come anywhere near it because that meant incurring his wrath. And nobody wanted that.

The girl just needed to learn the rules.

"Get off my table." She frowned, the corners of her lips dipping down slightly and her nose wrinkling as the skin was pushed together by her angered eyebrows.

"No."

A scowl crossed Tom's lips in an instant, staring back at the girl that was glaring at him. Not only had no one told her not to sit at his table, they'd not even warned her about him. About what he did to the people who annoyed him, the people who hurt him. He made them hurt, and he would make her hurt. He'd make an example of her that was for sure. He could feel the power that rested under his skin start to lash about, blowing up the plate that the remainder of her food had sat on. The other orphans screamed as the windows blew inwards but Tom paid it no mind, instead still focusing on the girl that wasn't backing down. In the back of his head, he could hear Mrs Cole ordering the children to leave the dining room, her steely grey eyes narrowed on him, but Tom refused to look aware for the girl.

Finally, his power lashed out at the girl the same way it'd whipped at the plate.

He was not expecting it to be met in the middle by a force similar to his own.

* * *

_Cecilia_

I don't know what I was expecting Riddle to do, but I know for sure it wasn't the blatant display of magic that I got. It lashed out, angry and intimidating and there was so much of it. It was potent, a surging force that snapped at my plate upon the table and saw to it that it exploded with a bang. The windows were the next to go, exploding inwards and the wind was quick to start throwing sleet and snow inwards.

I only had a second to react as Riddle's magic focused on me, snapping forwards and I pulled up my own, praying it'd become some form of defence. I'd never used it for attacking or defending myself before, only to add to the little tricks I could perform. I'd only ever tried levitating things before, never considered how I could use it if I were attacked.

That's probably why, looking back on it, when out magic met I was only able to hold Riddle off for a second. It was enough to throw off most of the malicious intent though, so I only ended up with a few dozen cuts instead of the broken bone he'd likely been aiming for.

Silence rang through the dinning room now, broken glass littering one side of the wall where all the windows had blown inwards, the frames now bare of the glass panels that they'd once held. The echoing voices of the children that'd been ushered into the corridors was the only noise to fill the air between us.

Slowly, I rubbed at the cut that ran across my cheek, smudging the blood across my skin before turning my narrowed gaze back to Riddle. He wasn't wide eyed with surprise like I'd been expecting, which should have been his reaction to the fact I'd met his magic with my own. Instead, his eyes were narrowed, clearly assessing what had happened, what made me different to all the other children he had under thumb. I'd proven myself different, different enough to catch his attention, and that made me wary.

After all, Harry Potter had caught his attention before and ever since he'd been after the boy's death.

I gave a wave of the hand I was holding behind my back, summoning the sets of uniforms towards me. Riddle watched them shakily float by him with intensity in his eyes, following the path of the clothes till I plucked them out of the air. I didn't look at him as I breezed past, instead walking out of the door I'd come in through, heading back to my room to put my new clothes away and then deciding it was time I got showered and dressed for the day. Within the pile of uniforms, there was new underwear and two sets of pyjamas.

.

I showered quickly because, surprise surprise, the water was freezing cold. I washed with the soap provided, throwing my wet hair up into the usual ponytail before inspecting my new war wounds in the mirror. The deepest one ran across my cheek, a slight tilt to it and it rested about two inches below my eye. I don't think it was deep enough to scar, but I'd never really paid much attention to cuts and how they scar before, seeing as I'd never had one on my face to worry about. In my previous life, I'd had to have my ankle cut open to fix part of the bone there, and that'd left me with a lovely straight scar. But that one hadn't been on my face. I could only hope it wouldn't leave a mark.

It wasn't until I'd pulled on the rather large jacket I'd been given and allowed to go outside that I realized it. The other orphans were avoiding me.

It was quick and easy to see why, I'd had a confrontation with Riddle and managed to walk away. Evidently, there was something wrong with me. Some of the younger children wouldn't even look me in the eye, instead remaining on the far side of the courtyard and pretending like I didn't exist.

Dropping down onto the step, I shoved my head into my hands, elbows supported on my knees and a frown decorating my lips.

So I'd stood up to Riddle. I'd presented the fact that I was indeed very much not a regular orphan like the rest of them, that the things that made him special, made me special too. That we had similar powers. If he hadn't figured it out by the clash of our magic, then the way I'd called my clothes to me made it clear enough. If I remembered his birthday right, then it was only a few days before he joined me in being a nine year old.

Nevertheless, that didn't mean he wasn't intelligent. He was a genius, insanely smart as Dumbledore had once pointed out. He would figure out the similarities between our use of magic with ease. What worried me was how he'd react.

He was unstable, there was no other way of putting it. I'd never had to deal with a psychopath before, and that's exactly what Tom Riddle was. In my old life, everyone had been normal, had fit into nice little boxes that allowed me to sort of gauge their future reactions if I said something they didn't like. They'd get upset for a bit, but then go back to being all nice and forgiving. If they hurt me for whatever reason, they'd feel remorse for it.

But, as far as I was aware, Tom Marvolo Riddle did not feel remorse. The lack of empathy made him dangerous and hard to predict. And seeing as he was such an influence in the future, that made everything so much harder. I'd never had to deal with an unstable human being before, I'd had a nice normal life before this. So I had no idea if Riddle was going to become obsessed with pulling my every secret apart, or if he was just going to attempt to kill me off for daring to be similar to him.

And I'd be doing everything in my power to make sure it'd be option one.

* * *

It was four days after the magical clash incident that I realized I was being watched. I'd started getting up extra early in the mornings in order to complete the stretch routines that Mother had taught me, going through all the floor poses that I knew of, twisting my body back and forth to make sure I wouldn't lose any of the flexibility I'd worked so hard for. It wasn't until I was in an elbow-stand with my toes brushing the top of the head that I realized there was someone stood outside of my open door.

I looked up, freezing in place when I realized it was Riddle watching me, gaze expressionless. Tall for an almost nine year old, he was completely unreadable and a frown found its way onto my face as I slow folded again until I was sat cross-legged upon the cold wooden floorboards. I looked back up at him, meeting his eyes and trying to assess what it was that he was thinking. I was no legilimens, and from the looks of things, neither was Tom. Yet. Always the key word there.

If he was a legilimens, he probably would have struck out at me now, or held me down to keep eye-contact long enough to learn everything I know, then killed me. I was going to try and change things, but in which direction, I wasn't sure yet. I didn't feel comfortable plotting against a kid that hadn't even seen his tenth year yet.

"You're like me," Tom finally murmured, not a single hint of emotion within his voice as he looked back at me, inspecting the leotard I was wearing. If I'd tried to do some of my acrobatics in the orphanage uniform, the trousers would without a doubt have split.

"What can you do?" I returned, watching and waiting for even the slightest hint of his intentions.

A small smile graced his face, but it wasn't friendly. No, it leaned more towards exhilaration, the chance to show off and start to understand this power that he saw, that put him above everyone else.

"Lots of stuff, I can make things move with my mind, like you did. And I can get animals to do what I want. If someone annoys me, I can make them hurt, if I want." And there was the threat. The whole, don't get on my bad side, I can still hurt you, even if you have powers like me. It was hidden nicely in that sentence, made to seem like he'd been looking out for himself only, but the warning was there.

"What can you do." It wasn't a question, instead a ringing demand that echoed around my head and compelled me to obey, to spill all of my secrets out before this boy.

I only just managed to bite my tongue, standing slowly in order to buy more time and push down the intense desire to tell him everything.

"I can move things too," I finally answered, looking at Riddle as I did so. I was older than him, by six months, and being a girl, had developed faster, meaning I was two inches taller than what he was. Regardless, that didn't make him any less intimidating.

"When I was at the circus, I used it to do things the other acrobats couldn't, I could flip higher, balance better, than people who'd been training their whole life. And when the circus burnt down, I could walk through the flames without them burning."

I didn't mention that I could see things, that was my secret, my last card to play should I ever need it. I'd be more valuable to Riddle, to anyone who learnt I could see the future and the past. That I could get impressions of people I'd never met before, that I could tell when someone was lying. I don't know how a seer's gift worked, but I was muggle-born so it couldn't have been in my blood. Unless one parent was a squib.

Riddle's interest seemed to peek as I mentioned the flames, a strange look crossing his face for but a second before he gestured for me to get ready for breakfast.

"You can sit at my table today."

.

I didn't realize it then, but that was the point where I stopped being Cecilia Labelle and started being Tom Riddle's Cecilia. It took a while to realize that by sitting at Tom Riddle's table, I'd been claimed as his, it was his way of showing the orphanage that I was his and his only, that no one else was allowed to come near me.

This became apparent when little Margaret Clark was violently thrown down the stairs by an unseen force when she'd tried talking to me. I knew Riddle was possessive, I knew he hoarded a collection of the other orphans' toys and trinkets, but I didn't noticed I'd become one of them until there was no way he'd let me slip away.

I'd even seen him looking at the fire in one of the indoor play rooms as if considering whether to throw me in or not, to test my claims. He'd seen to it that I was sat beside him before the fire, and since the two of us were in this room, then all the other children were outside, playing in the snow.

I shuffled forwards on my knees, stopping just before the fire and holding my hand out.

Slowly, a lick of flame broke off from the rest, twisting around my fingers like a fiery snake, leaving nothing but a ticklish feeling behind. It was difficult to control, I'd never done much with my magic aside from stretching it out, levitating things and using it to aid my performance. I was hesitant to explain to Riddle just what it was we could do, and after some thought, decided not to.

If Riddle knew there was a world out there, then he'd go looking for it. And too many things could go wrong if I allowed that to happen. So I played dumb, pretending it was just a power I had only ever seen in myself before. Which wasn't hard, considering I'd been surrounded by muggles my entire life so far. I'd not seen a wizard yet, not unless it was in my visions.

"I can talk to snakes too," Riddle's voice, regardless of how quiet he spoke, carried.

I turned to look at him, hissing beneath my breath as I lost concentration on the fire and it's heat snapped at my fingers. I was quick to throw it back to the mother-flame, but wasn't able to stop myself from flicking my hand back and forth. The skin was already turning red from the burn.

Riddle took hold of my hand, not carefully because otherwise his fingers wouldn't have caught my burn as roughly as they did. He twisted my appendage this way and that, inspecting the damaged skin with curious eyes. There was no remorse for distracting me, leading to the injury, not that I can honestly say I was expecting to see any.

"Fire can still hurt you, that's good to know." And wow, didn't that sound like a threat.

Riddle released my hand after a moment of thought and I was quick to cradle it to my chest, looking up at him from beneath my lashes, eyes narrowed slightly. It was the best warning I could give, considering I knew already I wouldn't be able to best him in offensive magic.

All I'd done with my magic before was tricks, I'd not been attempting to use it to its full capacity like Riddle had been trying to. He knew, understood, his powers better than I did mine.

So I was rightly nervous, especially when he reached out to the fire and began playing with the flames in his palm after just watching me do it. Yes, I think I had a right to be nervous now.

What had I gotten myself into?

* * *

**I fear I wasn't clear enough last chapter, but this will be the only story I'm updating till the 17th, because I'm writing this on my i-Pod. Thank you so much for the reviews, I hope you like this chapter and that I've done Tom justice. **

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	3. Part 1-3

**All or Nothing**

**_Part 1.3_****  
**_Breaking a Routine_

_x_

_Cecilia_

The months passed by, and soon enough, I'd spent a whole year and a half at Wool's, my eleventh birthday having just passed by. I was nervous, and probably rightly so. Because my Hogwarts letter would no doubt be due to arrive. I'd seen it already, about three months before today.

The auburn hair and atrocious suit thrown together, walking up to the imposingly big door of the orphanage. Albus Dumbledore, deputy headmaster would arrive on a sunny day to deliver me my letter.

Seeing as I was born six months before Tom, I fell into the school year before him. This had never been a problem before, but I shuddered to think how he'd accept me leaving for ten months to go to school while he remained here. He'd become attached, that much was evident.

It wasn't a normal attachment though, it was like I was a favourite toy, one he refused to share with the other orphans. He'd push and pull me about, not physically, but with mental games.

Once, he left me alone for a few days, and when one of the other orphans had approached me asking if I'd realized what a freak he was, the air had seemed to still, waiting for my reply. I'd eventually returned that Tom wasn't a freak. And wasn't it weird how Riddle had now become Tom as I'd grown attached. He was the only one I spent a reasonable amount of time with, who offered up some form of intelligent conversation. We shared secrets, there were things only we could do, so it was obvious that no matter how hard I tried, I was going to end up attached to him. That I'd come to care for him, even if he didn't return it beyond making sure none of the other orphans touched me.

When I'd defended him that day, a little satisfied smile had crossed his lips, like I was a project that'd finally started to produce some results, and I felt uncomfortable by how right that seemed in regards to my situation.

The orphan in question had been found in bed the next day with a broken arm and covered in pig's blood. I had no idea where Tom had even found the pigs blood, but I did know that he was a very disturbed, unstable child.

And I was going to get a front row seat to what is sure to be his magnificent reaction to learning about the magical world.

I could only hope I didn't lose his interest, because otherwise, I'd probably be killed later in life for knowing too much about him.

.

I knew today was the day Dumbledore arrived, because Mrs Cole called for me, poking her head into the room Tom and I often sat in. It'd become our room, none of the other orphans wanted to come in once we'd claimed it. I could see in Mrs Cole's eyes that she didn't understand why I'd been taken under Tom's wing, so to speak. I'd never shown any inclination to behaving in the same way that Tom did, but that didn't stop the woman from suspecting, obviously, that something was wrong with me.

"Cecilia, there's a Professor Dumbledore here to see you."  
Tom's head snapped around, eyeing Mrs Cole with a world wariness that he most certainly shouldn't posses at his age, regardless of his orphanage upbringing. None of the other orphans could managed the same cautious, angry look that Tom did.

"Why, is he going to take Cecilia away- I won't let him." It was the same ringing tone that he'd used long ago, back when he'd demanded to know the extent of my abilities. I'd only just managed to fend him off, so a muggle like Mrs Cole wouldn't stand a chance.

"Mr Dumbledore is just here to speak about schooling options for Cecilia," Mrs Cole returned in that curt tone, hawk eyes nervously eyeing Tom. An angry Tom was dangerous, especially whenever someone tried to take away something he saw as his. Mrs Cole had learnt this back when she'd tried to separate me from him. It'd ended badly, I tried not to think too much on it.

"She's telling the truth," I murmured, getting to my feet with Tom following me not a second behind.

A new voice came over then when Mrs Cole stepped back into the corridor and I got a good look at Dumbledore for the first time. The suit was exactly like I'd seen in my vision and I cringed slightly at the offensively bright waist coat.

"I only wish to speak to Miss Labelle about a scholarship she qualifies for, I promise it will take no longer than ten minutes." He was watching Tom like one might an agitated panther.

I carefully reached out, taking Tom's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, a promise I'd be back in the time allowed and that I'd tell him everything. His eyes were narrowed but nodded his head ever so slightly, suspicious gaze still fixed on Dumbledore, even as I was led from the room.

.

I sat in a chair across form Mrs Cole's desk, Dumbledore sat across from me and holding out my Hogwart's letter after Mrs Cole had left the room.

"Miss Labelle, my name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, and I am deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. You, Miss Labelle, are-"

"A witch," I cut in, accepting the letter from his outstretched hand. I focused on breaking the wax seal, trying not to pay any attention to the assessing look that Dumbledore was giving me. "I can do magic, I've been able to do it awhile, so it was a logical conclusion." I let my eyes dance over the writing on the paper before looking up at Dumbledore, making sure not to look into his eyes and instead pretend to be taking in his rather bright appearance. That wasn't hard at all.

"What can you do, Miss Labelle?"

I didn't answer verbally, instead gesturing with my hand for Mrs Cole's not so secret stash of gin to float free from the cupboard, a glass following. The latter landed neatly in front of Dumbledore and I carefully poured a generous helping for the man before waving the bottle away.

"I can make stuff move without touch it," I finally answered, before looking down at my palm and focusing. Fire, a small handful, burst to life there, dancing across the flesh of my palm but leaving no burns. It was one of the things I'd started learning to do after Tom distracted me the first time I'd been playing with fire, learning how to not get burnt. Eventually, the two of us had progressed to the point where we could summon flames to our palms effortlessly.

"I can play with fire and not get burnt," I let it fizzle to a stop, disappearing without a trace of smoke before shuffling nervously in my seat.

"And I see things, things that haven't happened yet." Now I really had Dumbledore's attention.

His twinkly blue eyes were focused on me now, and I made sure not to look into them. I didn't need him to find out of my wavering resolve to help the world, and instead nudge Tom in the right direction. I felt the absurd need to protect the younger boy, and I was constantly, ruthlessly, pushing that need down.

"That's how I knew you were coming, and that you'll take me to Diagon Ally tomorrow with the other muggle-borns... Tom's like me, so it's not a problem if I tell him, right?"

.

I think I might have dazed Dumbledore, because he let me leave the room without complaint, informing me that yes, he would indeed be picking me up tomorrow for an expedition out to Diagon Alley. I had folded up my letter and placed it within the rather large pockets that were sewn into my skirt, smiling lightly at Mrs Cole as I passed her by, heading back to the room Tom was currently in. I could feel his magic throbbing about inside the confines of the four walls, restless and anxious as he awaited my returned.

Slowly pushing the door open, I peeked around the corner of the wood, smile at the boy when his head snapped back in my direction. I took a quick look down both ends of the corridor, and then, certain that we wouldn't be interrupted, I raced in, slamming the door shut behind me as I went. Tom raised a finger, a flash of fire shooting from the tip and setting the wooden logs within the hearth ablaze.

"It's magic, what we can do," I murmured, not even having to fake the breathless tone -not that Tom wouldn't have been able to tell if I weren't being real with him- as I spoke. His eyes widened slightly and I pulled out my letter, shoving it into his chest and bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet.

"There's a whole community out there, and there's a school, that's Hogwarts, and you go there when you're eleven to learn magic." I was so excited. All these years, running around in the circus, fighting to keep everything I was secret from everyone, to keep my secrets from Tom, it was all worth it. Because I got to go to Hogwarts. It was every day-dream I'd ever had all mushed up into one big reality. For all the stressed I'd suffered, it was finally worth it. There was just one problem-

"I won't be going till next year."

I flinched back at the sound of Tom's voice as if physically struck, turning to look at him with wide brown eyes, trying to put the '_what can I possibly do about that?_' onto my face so I won't have to say it aloud.

Tom was staring at the letter in his hands with a frown upon his face, which gave me no idea as to what the hell was running through his mind. There would never be time that I wouldn't hate the fact he was so damn unreadable, I felt like I was constantly on the very edge and he was either going to throw me off the cliff or just leave me there. That was my daily life in a nutshell.

"Professor Dumbledore said that I can buy an owl and write to you while I'm at school." Well, he'd never said that, but he would be doing so tomorrow, of that I was certain.

Tom's brows were still knitted together above his nose, and just that show of emotion on his face let me know he was thinking hard. The ten year old carefully handed me my letter back, reaching out for the fire with one hand and leading it in a merry dance before him.

"And I'll get to go next year?"

"You are magic like me, you're a wizard and I'm a witch."

Tom nodded, and I could see that he'd accepted the fact his birthday had put him in the schooling year below me.

That didn't mean he was any happier for it.

* * *

I came back from Diagon Alley in a daze. Mrs Cole had insisted Tom remain in the orphanage to get his chores done, to which the dark haired boy had promised retribution with his glare. Not that it would stop the two of us from leaving the next day to explore Diagon Alley to the full extent. Currently, I was sat on my bed, staring at the slightly worn trunk before me as I waited for Tom to come and join me so we could go through the things I'd bought. I had all second hand copies of the course books, along with the potions equipment, uniform and a rather fetching barn owl resting upon my windowsill.

Caelum was a lovely bird, with a calm silence about him as he flexed his lightly coloured feathers by my open window. He would be the messenger between myself and Tom. The lack of empathy Tom showed did scare me, and for a moment I worried for Caelum's health should my owl be delivering a letter to the boy only to find him in a mood. But I calmed myself because if something happened to Caelum, then Tom wouldn't be able to contact me. And I don't think he'd do such a thing at the very least until he was securely in the wizarding world, thus, his first year at Hogwarts. And then I'd very rarely need to send Caelum to him because I could just talk to Tom in the halls.

It was only for a year we'd be apart after all. Caelum probably wouldn't be needed for us to stay in contact once I'd finished my final year at Hogwarts, because I'm pretty sure the two of us would be able to come up with some form of charmed notebooks to communicate with one another by then.

That is, if Tom still saw the point in keeping me around then.

God, I hoped he would, because otherwise I'd be lost at what to do. Other than Dumbledore, I couldn't really think of anyone else other than him that would have an influential impact on the future. Oh, and Grindelwald, but that was a line I wasn't willing to cross. Not yet, I wasn't that desperate.

Finally, nestled within my hands was my wand. Black walnut with unicorn core, 10 ¾ inches, hard. It wasn't a mighty phoenix feather or a ferocious dragon heartstring, but I didn't want that. I felt better with this wand, this was the one I'd connected with after all, it was the one that would stick by me through my entire Hogwarts career and I trusted it. It may sound stupid to think that way, but that's just the way a wand felt. It was an extension of my body, of my magic, and though I wouldn't stop using wandless magic -like I was going to let something as desirable as that slip away- but still. It was all kinds of wonderful to hold it in my hands.

"What's that?"

I looked up at the sound of Tom's voice before a grin broke out across my face.

"My wand, apparently most wizards need them for spell casting. Mr Olivander, the guy who makes the wands, said that there's a trace on all of them sold to under-age wizards and we can't preform magic with them outside of school. Which sucks."

Tom frowned slightly and I could see the greedy glint in his eyes as he eyed the wood. I'd explained the previous day what Dumbledore had shown me during our meeting -in which he'd pulled a McGonagall and turned Mrs Cole's desk into a pig and back- and I knew right away that Tom wanted one. The fact I had one now and that he didn't would obviously be chewing at his nerves for quite a while. If I'd been walking on thin ice before, I'd just put on a couple of pounds now because there were spidery cracks in the surface. I quickly explained everything about how the wand chooses the wizard, informing Tom of just where the entrance to Diagon was -we'd without a doubt be exploring tomorrow- before I settled back on my bed and threw Caelum an owl treat, which he caught flawlessly.

"Apparently I'm a muggle-born, someone born to two non-magic people. No one knows why it happens, but the pure-bloods, people without any muggle blood in them, don't like it. To be honest, I'm kinda scared about Hogwarts because of that." _I'm kinda scared that when you find out your heritage that you'll stop talking to me. or worse, that you'll kill me. _

Tom frowned, plucking up the Hogwarts a History book -Dumbledore had bought each muggle-born one as a welcoming gift to the Wizarding World- before flicking it open.

"So that means one of my parents could have been magical... It'd have to be my father, otherwise my mother wouldn't have died." I cringed. Yeah, I really didn't want to go down that line of thought, because the future of that thought was not good. For Riddle Sr that was.

"I leave on September the first, you won't burn this place down while I'm away, will you?" I was only half joking, considering who I was speaking to.

Tom looked up from the pages of his book, a humourless smirk on his face.

"I'll try not to." It wasn't even a jest, Tom would probably have to reign his temper in, considering we wouldn't be pushing one another magically for a while, seeing as I was leaving.

I pitied the other orphans.

* * *

**Mmmm, this'll be the last update for a while, real life once again pushing everything out the way. Cecilia's birthday sees to it that she falls a schooling year ahead of Tom, even though they're both born 1926, she in June and him in December. So, next up is Hogwarts, which I'm honestly looking forwards to writing, even if I'll be going about the chapter different than what I have so far. **

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	4. Part 1-4

**All or Nothing**

**_Part 1.4_****  
**_Starting Something New_

_x_

_Cecilia_

Carefully placing my foot upon the edge of the table top, I twisted to a side slightly, letting the rope of flames pass harmlessly by my ribs. Not that it was under any control of my own, but rather forced me to get out of the way or suffer another burn.

It was the night before I was due to set off, and I was once again running drills with Tom. His magic was far stronger than my own, and he controlled the flames from the fire with a delicate easy, the way one might pour water from a jug instead of directing a whip of fire around in the air. He did it with an absent-minded ease that would probably scare any other student at Hogwarts, for it certainly startled me.

We'd been playing -well, for Tom it was playing I guess- these games for a good long while, in which I'd dodge out of the way of the fire. Tom wasn't trying to hurt me, but I could see it in his eyes. He pushed me to breaking point with this exercise, forced me to use all the flexible moves that I knew, all the contortions I could think of and some I couldn't, the ones that came naturally as I scrambled to get out of the way. He was constantly testing my limits, and seemed unhappy he wouldn't be able to do so until he joined me at Hogwarts. I knew why.

It was because his favourite toy was being moved out of reach. I was the one thing he hadn't broke yet, simply because I had far more use than any of the muggle orphans that surrounded the two of us. I earned a bit of money with the whole contortionist performance, not much considering the state of the country at the moment, but it was enough to ensure we had enough food that it didn't push our stomach to an act of cannibalism.

The only problem was I wouldn't be here from tomorrow, so I'd need to find a way of getting more money. I was without a doubt coming home for Christmas. If I didn't, I doubt I'd get a warm reception from Tom come summer.

Fire flashed in-front of my face and I fell into the back-bed, the heat of the flames licking at the sweat covered skin of my brow.

"I think we're done," Tom murmured, giving an exaggerated gesture of his hand and flames sizzled out of existence.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I wiped my sleeve along my forehead, standing up.

"Great. I guess it's bed time then."

.

Tom had walked me to the orphanage gates on the first of September, a frown crossing his face as he looked at the wheeled trunk I was dragging behind me. The grounds keeper would be picking up all the muggle-borns by apperation, which was appropriate considering few children would have had parents resourceful enough to get to London for the train. I was pretty nervous, because honestly, I had no idea what the current climate of Hogwarts was like.

Were muggle-borns truly ostracised like I was half expecting, or was it closer towards what had been shown in the books? I knew I'd be getting trouble from the Slytherins, mainly because I knew at least one Black would be attending the school, either in my year of the year above. If I remembered correctly, Walburga Black, mother of Sirius and Regulus, was born in 1925. And her husband only a few years later. So they would both be gracing Hogwarts halls at the same time I would. There was no way I'd get through seven years without clashing at least once with them.

Digging through my satchel, I pulled out a small journal I'd bought, having saved up all the money I didn't use on food to buy it. I needed a better job than a street performer.

"I got you a journal, so I won't miss anything important while I'm gone," I murmured, pushing the little book into Tom's chest to make sure he'd accept it. The dark haired boy looked back at me with a frown, the crack of apperation ringing around the street.

"See you at Christmas."

.

The Hogwarts express was a grand piece of magical mechanics, and thing of bright red beauty against the dull monotone that London was in the 1930's.

I shuffled over, taking a compartment near the back of the train as my own, before pulling out a Potions book. This, along with Runes, would probably be the most important pieces of magic during my schooling years, simply because as far as I'd gathered, you didn't need much magic to make them work. It was only the high levelled potions that needed wand work, otherwise, I could probably create them at the orphanage. And they'd be ever so useful to myself and Tom. Runes only needed magic when you created the rune itself, or the sequence, and while I didn't have access to a book yet, I was planning on raiding the room of requirement.

I knew from my past life a few things about Hogwarts, locations and passwords, but that didn't mean I knew how to get around the place. I'd know how to get into the kitchens, but where the portrait was that housed the gateway would probably take me a while to find. Thankfully, in that respect, I could probably just ask the portraits to show me around and with any luck, they'd listen. I had every intention of creating my own little network, just like what Slughorn had done. Only, it'd be significantly harder for me because for one, I was muggle-born, and second, I was not a teacher.

I pulled out a sheet of parchment, scribbling down everything that'd happened so far, describing the Hogwarts express as best I could, when the door opened. I looked up, having been leaning on the trunk that was far too heavy for me to even think about lifting up into the hold, meeting the eyes of the two older boys before me. One had sandy blond hair pulled back in a high top-knot, clear blue eyes and a curious smile on his face at the sight of me hunch over my trunk scribbling away. The second, messy black hair, hazel eyes and glasses. What were the chances that I'd run into a Potter on the very first day? That was ridiculous.

"Hey little lady, need a hand with that trunk?" The blond asked, a little grin on his face as he approached upon my nod. I pulled my spell-book out for extra reading before allowing the taller blond to heft my trunk up and away, finally allowing for some legroom in the compartment. A hand was offered to me and I looked up the long pale limb into the face of 1930's Potter.

"Charlus Potter, fourth year Gryffindor."

I placed my hand in his and blushed furiously when he kissed at my knuckles. I already knew it was typical of the upper-class of this time, I'd seen it enough whilst preforming in London as Tom sat by with me, but watching it happen and being on the receiving end were two very different things.

"Cecilia Labelle, first year and floundering muggle-born." The other boy laughed and Charlus grinned, throwing his own suitcase above his head and gesturing for the third person to come in. At this point, the blond hand offered me his hand and I took it, seeing as I'd rather pay attention to the strange pure-blood gestures than think about all the unknowns that were suddenly around me.

"Cecilia Labelle."

"Cadmus Longbottom." I almost, almost, did a double take but squashed the instinct down as hard as I could. I just hadn't picture a Longbottom capable of being so, self assure as what Cadmus had come across as.

The final boy was thankfully, my age if the plain black Hogwarts robes were anything to go by. I had left the orphanage in them, refusing to be seen in the ghastly uniform they gave out every year. It'd be like painting myself with a big red bullseye for the Slytherins to come pick on me. And unlike Tom, I didn't have the whole speaking snake thing to get them to back off.

"Alexis Pryites. Charles is my second cousin." Alexis almost reminded me of Harry Potter actually, even if the colouring was wrong. He had the same messy hair, but it came in a light brown, with matching brown eyes and a pale complexion.

"Okay then, let's see if we can give you a crash course in the wizarding world," Cadmus muttered, rubbing his hands together with a grin in my direction, "we can't have you floundering after all."

.

The three boys had been completely serious in giving me a crash course, and by the time we arrived at the station, I'd already been taught the basic Lumos and Nox. I also knew more information about the current climate of the wizarding world and between Charlus and Cadmus, my head was spinning with Hogwarts related information. I'd made the mistake of halfway through their explanations on how long it took them to find the kitchen, mainly by commenting that tickling the pear was the last thing most people would think of. Of course they hadn't mentioned that part yet, and had badgered me until I'd had to admit to seeing things and just knowing about things before they'd happened.

Of course, at that point the two upper class-men and Alexis had began to question everything about being a seer, all the while eating as many chocolate frogs as they could. It'd been a blow to my pride to admit I had no money to my name -having used the rest of it to buy Tom's journal, diary thing- and it'd almost made me cringe to accept the chocolate off them. It was only when they insisted it was a 'welcome to our world' gift that I'd done so.

Charlus and Cadmus waved goodbye to us as they made their way over to the carriages, whilst Alexis and I shuffled towards the boats. We were shuffled in with another two boys, one with dark hair, and the other with soft blond hair, combed neatly to a side. They took one look at us and sniffed in disdain, instead turning their attention to the front of the boat for the view of Hogwarts. It was clear from the quality of their robes that they were from old money, and I felt a hot flush run through my cheeks in embarrassment.

Adult in a child's body or not, it was still uncomfortable being judged to be poor. Even if there wasn't a lot I could do about that for now.

So instead, I turned my attention to what would be my focal point for the next seven years, to what would see to seven years of growth in not just myself, but in Tom too. And I was almost excited for it.

Because this would be the first time I'd get to see if I had managed to change anything.

* * *

_Tom _

Tom Riddle woke to a tapping at his window. It'd been four days since Cecilia had left for Hogwarts, and he'd found himself almost bored, if it weren't for the magic he was constantly practising.

Behind the thin glass of the window, an owl was starring back at him with wide brown eyes. The lightly coloured owl, Cecilia's owl, let out a chirp, long wings still going as it hovered in the air. It wasn't until he opened the window that he found out why.

The bird was carrying a rather large package, a tie upon it's foot connecting to the rope around the brown parcel. Tom juggled everything around a bit, but was able to pull the whole lot through the window, turning his attention back to the bird. His brain supplied him with the name Caelum for the beast, a frown crossing his face as he looked at it. He wasn't fond of animals, didn't like them -aside from snakes- but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate their usefulness.

And at the moment, the barn owl was the link between both himself and Cecilia.

He was irritated that he'd lost her to this new world for the next few months, but at the same time, it had it's good points. She'd be able to get a feel for this new world, see how dangerous it was, collect information. And he'd be able to learn from it all, including any mistakes she made. Which could only be good for him.

Setting the package down upon his bed, he tore the plain brown paper away, inspecting the contents.

He'd been careful with his newest toy, well aware that the emotional ones had a tendency to break easy. He'd pushed her, certainly. Pulled and tugged and relentlessly prodded until she was nothing more than a pile of goo, ready to accept his moulding hands. Then, the letter had come, and suddenly, his favourite toy wasn't in his reach anymore. Oh, how he despised having to resort to the others, the ones he'd already broken. They were no longer fun, were no longer new. They weren't as flexible and exciting as Cecilia was.

He liked playing with Cecilia, but not as the other children did. He liked having her full attention, he liked the fact he centred her world, that she'd turn to him when in a new situation, even if she didn't realise she was doing so. He liked it because she was a challenge that he could approach from a multitude of angles every-time. He liked putting her on edge, because her reactions were so much better than the other orphans. Because she had magic. Like him. She was his to play with, to twist and corrupt and lead around.

And he was determined not to lose his favourite toy just because she was on the other side of the country.

Even now, she was still sending food to him, caring for him. He was at the front of her mind, as it should be. He was looking forwards to his own first year at Hogwarts, because of all the people he could play with, all those new, unbroken things just waiting for him to ruin them. They were ready, up in that big castle, for him to come and toy around with them. Though he supposed Cecilia would remain his favoured, even then. Because there was nothing better to amuse himself with when he looked at the loyalty she'd shown him.

Though she was far away from him, she had not put him out of mind. Fou days she had been gone, and already he'd been sent a package of food, enough to give him three full meals a day for the next week. And he assumed she'd be sending more. How someone so compulsively loyal had stumbled into his lap, he didn't know.

But he was going to take advantage of it, that was for sure.

* * *

**Nope, that's not the diary that Tom make's into a Horcrux, but it is where he picks up the habit of having a diary every year. **

**So, Cecilia's at Hogwarts, the next chapter and perhaps the one after that will have a little format difference, but hopefully it'll still be a good read. I hope. **

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	5. Part 1-5

**All or Nothing**

**_Part 1.5_****  
**_A Corresponding_

_x_

_Cecilia_

Hi Tom,

It's weird writing to you, weird being away and experiencing things without you dissecting every little tidbit of information that comes at us. It's pretty lonely actually, even if I have made the odd few friends so far. It's been five days since I left the orphanage for Hogwarts, and I've managed to hold off writing about class until now. You should have gotten a little care-package from Caelum delivered by now, at that's got enough food to last a week. I'll send some more when you use that up. On the topic of food, I found the kitchens, or rather, Charlus Potter showed me where they were. He's a fourth year Gryffindor and helped me out on the train too, he seems pretty nice. I know I told you in my last letter, but hey, I made Gryffindor. It's true that there's a rather large rivalry between the house of lions and the house of snakes. But even if you end up a Slytherin -and I honestly can't see you anywhere else- you'll still talk to me, right? In fact, I can see you whipping that house into shape. You do, after all, take no prisoners.

Anyway, on the topic of Slytherins, there's these particularly fowl boy called Lestrange, I think his name's something stupid like Thorben or Thuban or something, but he'd awful. He's one of these so called 'Pure-bloods' that can trace their wizarding lineage all the way back to BC or something. And he hates all things muggle. Thus, as a muggle-born, I'm not exactly high up on his list. He tripped me in the hall the other day, and keeps sprouting nasty things about me and 'my kind'. The only reason I haven't punched him in the nose yet is because I don't want to risk getting expelled. It's even more painful the fact he's a complete whiz at potions. And I'm, well, not. Don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid or anything, but I apparently lack an 'innate understanding' in regards to the topic. I'm ace at charms and defence though. Transfigurations isn't so bad either. History is taught by a ghost, but he can put almost everyone to sleep, I'm not really learning a lot in that class. Anyway, back to potions. Professor Slughorn, who's the head of Slytherin by the way, lumped me with one Alphard Black, another Slytherin pure-blood in my year. He's got the same views as Lestrange, but has at least a little discretion about him, thank the gods. He's far more a credit to his house than what Lestrange is.

I've got flying lessons coming up soon, and I'm really looking forwards to that. There's a sport called Quidditch, and if I'm any good, maybe I'll get on the house team in the coming years. Fingers crossed and all. The season starts in late October, early November, so I won't be able to tell you much about it till then. Hell, maybe you won't care for it, I don't know. But I suppose you'll like all the information you can get, right?

Hope this letter finds you in good health,

Cecilia

* * *

Tom,

It's been a month now at this new school, and I can't believe how fast time is going by here. I'm practising magic whenever I've got time, and though I don't have a lot of friends, I can live with that. Alexis -another boy I met on the train- doesn't mind practising with me sometimes, though he's of the opinion I'm overdoing it. But how can I be, when I just want to be as good as I can be at this? I know for sure if you were here, and when you get here, you won't take anything for granted. There's just so much to learn, I don't care if they call me a teacher's pet or whatever.

Speaking of teachers, I have some really big news. I've kinda been keeping a secret from you. Not anything bad! I promise. For all my life, I've been getting this thoughts, images and ideas that really shouldn't be mind. They don't belong to me, or I'm seeing things that've happened, or have yet to happen. I can tell when someone's lying to me. Sometimes I can even feel how someone's feeling. I thought I was going crazy, so I didn't mention it to you. I thought you might not want to be around me anymore with how I was so weird. But I told Professor Slughorn. Or more, he figured it out when I asked about mind protection. Apparently, there's all sorts of magic, including one that can read your mind. Which, for me as a Seer -which is apparently the ability I have- is really dangerous. If my mind's messed wit, all sorts of bad things can happen. So I've started learning how to protect myself. According to Professor Slughorn, it's an art called Occlumency, which will protect my mind from invasion. He says I'm a rare brand of Seer, that most just tell prophecies. I'm a little more varied than that. Though apparently it's a very important gift. Who knew?

Talking about gifts, I've also found out something very interesting that you'll really like. Salazar Slytherin, the Founder of the house, could talk to snakes. Like you. But that's not the most important thing I've found out. According to the book I found the information in, it's a skill called Parseltongue, a generic trait passed down through a family line. Passed on from father to son, mother to daughter kind of thing. Which means you can't be a muggle-born like me, one of your parents has to have some wizarding blood. We've just got to find out which one. I traded information with Black -we've finally settled our differences, at least, for potions class- and we traded information. I might have dropped a few hints that he really shouldn't go into the great hall the next morning -Charlus and Cadmus are planning a prank on the Slytherins- and he told me that being a Parselmouth is really sought after. So if you do end up in Slytherin, that'll be a big, big help for you.

Onto what is currently my favourite topic, flying. It's great. I know you'll probably not like it much because you'll have to rely on a broom, and don't I know you don't like relying on anything? To be honest, I can see you attempting to figure out a way to fly on your own, regardless of the so called magical laws that say it's impossible. Anyway, it's great fun and the other Gryffindors said I wasn't half bad. So maybe I will be able to get on the house team in later years. Fingers crossed.

I baked a few desserts with the House Elves -those little creatures that run the kitchens, they've been teaching me how to cook- so they're in the package with the rest of the food. No poison at all, promise.

Awaiting your reply,

Cecilia

* * *

Greeting again Tom,

The weather's coming in really cold up here in Scotland. It's by far colder than London at this time of year, that I can say for certain. I'm pleased that a winter cloak is on the equipment list, because otherwise I'm pretty sure my toes and fingers would have fallen off by now. And my cheeks will be turning a fetching shade of red when I head up to the Owlery to send Caelum off with this letter. I hope you appreciate the trouble I go through for you sweetheart. I bet your scowling at this parchment right now, am I right? Calm down, I was only joking. No pet nicknames, I know the rules.

On with all the news I have then. First off, I got an invitation to another one of Professor Slughorn's parties last week. It's a gathering of select students that's commonly known as the Slug Club. As far as I've been able to tell, it's all about making connections with up and coming fellow students, along with past alumni that he invites to the parties. Right up your street then, because I know for a fact you won't be just sitting on the side in this new world we've been thrown into. I can guess you're already off scheming up plans, especially since I'm not there to distract you. Just don't blow up the orphanage please? Because we need that till I come of age and am able to get us somewhere else to live.

Lestrange hit me with a jinx yesterday, and it had me hopping around because my legs were locked together. Juvenile right? And he's suppose to be the crème de la crème of the wizarding world? I hold little hope for the place if so. At least we vote in our Minster of Magic, that means Lestrange will never get the position. Because the public has to actually like you, not the money your name comes with. Not that I'd know much about the second bit, being poor as dirt. God it's annoying; I'm going to look for a job over summer in the Alley I think, there's got to be something going. If I want a hope in hell of being able to move out of the orphanage ASAP then I'll need a down payment on the place. That's how it works, right? Regardless, for now I think I'll just stick to trying to ace all my classes as best as I can. I want to be as good as possible at magic, especially because you and your genius brain are probably gonna blow me out of the water next year.

Looking forwards to seeing you at Christmas,

Cecilia

* * *

Happy New Year Tom,

Or well, maybe not. Considering you're still stuck there. But still, it was nice to see you over Christmas, I'm back at school -obviously- only now that they don't have Christmas to pay attention to, the professors and heaping the homework on us. If it weren't for the fact my social circle consists of one first year Gryffindor, two third years and then whichever Slytherin feels the need to annoy me, I would be way behind. As it just so happens, I've finished it all, thanks to my comatose social life. I hope you liked the books I got you for Christmas -stop asking me where I got the money, I'm not too proud of it- and yes, I know most of them are History books. However, History of Magic here is taught by a ghost, and he has that special power of being able to put anyone to sleep. Even the Ravenclaws don't pay attention. So I'd start looking into it now, while you've got nothing else to do. Then you can help me out with it too.

As for Lestrange, I've got a super idea to get back at him. The only problem is that it's going to take some serious research and spell work. Certainly many months of work, but if it comes out like I've got planned, then it'll be worth it, that's for certain. On that topic, I might have disturbed some of the Hufflepuffs that overheard me cackling at my oh so brilliant plan. I'd tell you, but I've got this huge feeling you're going to be a Slytherin, so I'm not going to say anything in fear I'm right. Don't worry though -even if I somewhat doubt you will- it won't harm a hair on your pretty little head.

Oh, I found this room too, on the seventh floor, and I don't know what the hell it is, but when I open the door it's like I'm back at the circus. It might be some kind of room that changes into a place you've been before, I don't fully understand it. But it's got all the old equipment that the circus used to have and it's just as big. Logically it shouldn't be able to fit in the castle, but this is a world of magic, so I'm going to disregard everything I once knew and keep pushing the boundaries. I think that with the two of us being raised in the Muggle world, we don't have the same closed mindedness in regards to magic, not like what the other students do. They know what magic can do, and are comfortable with it. But it's all knew to us, so we keep stretching the boundaries. Did you know the last big potions breakthrough was by a muggle-born? I think we have the advantage in the long run, even if the Pure-bloods like to think otherwise.

Planning my revenge,

Cecilia

* * *

Tom,

I can't believe a year has passed by. It's so weird to think this time last year we were playing with fire when there was so much more out there. Speaking of our wandless magic, don't stop practising it once you get a wand. I hadn't done any from summer till Christmas and it wasn't until I got back to you that I found my wandless magic was coming a lot harder. Don't get dependant on the wand like I did, I've spent a good deal of my free time just struggling to get back up to my previous level. Yes, I can practically hear you telling me off for allowing such a useful ability to almost slip through my fingers. I'll be more careful with it next year, and I'll practise over summer. Not that I've got much choice, since I'm not allowed to use a wand outside of Hogwarts. Something about and under-aged act.

Speaking of next year, I'm going to try out for the Quidditch team. There's a spot opening up, Chaser, and I've got a pretty good feeling about it. I had a pretty good feeling about going to Wools when the police officer asked me where to go, so I'm gonna chase this. I asked Professor Dumbledore and apparently if an orphan gets on the team, the school will fund the broom. Apparently they're all for equal opportunities between the rich and poor. More good news comes in the form of my grades. I've got O's across the board aside from bloody Herbology. I scraped an EE in that horrid subject. Though I only just got an O in History of Magic. I can't remember if I explained the grading system to you, but it's Outstanding, Exceeding Expectations, Acceptable, Poor, Dreadful and then Troll. That's in descending order. It was very pleasing to learn I'd topped the year, Lestrange's and Black's -Walburga's- face was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I also managed to get a tentative allegiance from Alphard Black. And by tentative I mean he'll meeting up with me in my circus room to revise. He's scarily good at History, I suppose he's dragged my grade up in that, and he's better at me in Potions too. So we traded knowledge. Both Alexis and Alphard are nice enough, but they're not you I guess, they can hold an intelligent conversation, but they don't love magic like I do. And they haven't pushed their own like we have. I don't' know, I just feel like something's missing sometimes.

Not that it matters, because I'll be back in three days.

See you real soon,

Cecilia

* * *

**Ta-da, part 1 finished. So, Part 2 will have a time-skip, as you can probably guess by this chapters set up. **

**Yeah, Cecilia is a Gryff, there was no way she'd be a snake. I just couldn't work it, because she's Muggle-born. And that's not going to change, she's not going to discover her mother was a squib or something. She's really just a muggle-born.**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	6. Part 2-1

**All or Nothing**

**_Part 2.1_****  
**_The Lestrange Lion_

_x_

_Cecilia_

Drumming my left hand and it's fingers against my thigh, I shifted from foot to foot slightly, nervously biting my lip. Bravery was part of the House though, so I sucked in a breath and began making my way across the fields of Hogwarts, one hand clutching at the satchel and the other still tapping out a rhythm upon my leg. The honey blonde that was my hair fell in straight, feathered layers around my face, the wind constantly throwing it before my eyes. With a huff, I tugged the latest offender back, tucking it behind my ear and coming to a stop beneath the large oak tree that sat atop the hill. Beyond that, Black lake stretched outwards, a vast landscape reflecting the sky back upon itself. It was at the foot of this tree, pressed up against one of the larger roots, I found what I'd been looking for.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was looking out over the lake, dark blue eyes unseeing. No doubt the brain that rested beneath his dark locks was running faster than a snitch could fly. He seemed pretty deep in thought, far deeper than what he was usually dealing with. Which for Tom had to be exceedingly deep.

I made sure to scuff my shoe against one of the roots, just to make sure he was actually aware of my presence. As expected, he didn't move a muscle, still looking out over the great land that belonged to Hogwarts, but the sharpness had at least returned to his gaze.

"Hey, which magical law are you planning to break?"

A smile twitched at the corners of Tom's lips head finally turning slightly to look at me.

A lot had changed in five years. I was now a sixth year, and Tom just starting out his fifth. We'd both made perfect, and I'd been given the glorious title of Quidditch Captain too. I was on my fourth year as a Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with seven O's and two EE's OWL's to my name. Not bad for a mudblood.

One of the big things that'd changed was how Tom acted. He was the perfect social butterfly now, with friends in every house and a reputation as 'the good Slytherin'. He had his house completely under control, if one were to go by the fact Lestrange could stand to be in the same room as me without running his mouth. And that was not a task I'd made easy.

Just over a year ago, right before Charlus Potter had been due to graduate, the two of us had snuck down into the dungeon to unleash what had been three years worth of planning. Now sat just off to the side of the potion's classroom, was what had been affectionately dubbed '_The Lestrange Lion_'. The name spoke for itself; it was a lion head mouthed upon the wall that looked extraordinarily like Lestrange. And roared whenever the boy in question would pass by. The staff still hadn't figured out how to take it down yet, and the best they could do was cast a disillusion charm over it. Not that the charm ever stuck around for longer than a week. And even then, the lion could not be silenced. Which meant that every time we lined up outside of the potions classroom, there would be an ever so delightful roar echoing the corridor as Lestrange came up from the Slytherin dormitories. It was music to every Gryffindors' ears. Charlus and I had sworn never to reveal how we did it. Not for half a century anyway.  
Tom appreciated the magic upon it, that was for certain.

"I'm considering flight, but maybe conjuring food wouldn't be too bad."

A smile tugged at my lips and I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in exasperation. Even though I knew for certain this wasn't really Tom, that it was nothing more than a mask he put on, that didn't change the fact he was far easier to get along with because of it.

"Seriously though, a sandwich for your thoughts?" I held up the item in question, wiggling it about a bit as Tom chuckled, holding out his hand for the package.

My seer abilities were coming along quite nicely. Slughorn had been good enough to get me in contact with Cassandra Trelawney, a legendary seer. She was also a very old, and very mad woman. I got the joys of spending Christmas with her during my fourth year. Needless to say, I had no desire to go back, regardless of how much I had learnt under her oh so tender teachings. Though I couldn't argue against the facts, she was good. She had all my gifts, and then more. Name any way there was to predict the future, present or past, she could do it. Kinda makes a girl feel inferior.

Tom cocked an eyebrow, unwrapping the cloth around the sandwiches as he laid back against the trunk of the tree.

"You saw me skipping out on dinner?"

I snorted, pulling out my own sandwich.

"More like I saw Slughorn backing you into a corner for a half hour lecture- excuse me, talk. Figured you'd prefer not to turn up than be subjected to that."

Tom laughed, the sound rich and warm. And I knew it wasn't real amusement, not at what I'd just said. Perhaps laughing at Slughorn, or maybe it was just a false laugh he'd perfected. Though the books had implied it, watching Tom Riddle conquer one challenge after another like it were nothing more than a molehill in comparison to our mountains was daunting. There wasn't anything he couldn't do, should he put his mind to it.

"Thank you Cecilia, you're always good at taking these things into account."

I nodded, shuffling about slightly on the grass.

"You haven't distracted me by the way. If you don't want to talk about it, then just say. I don't pick up on all this undertone business, I'm a Gryffindor." I said it like the words would explain everything, and they did. I didn't think far ahead, I was never good at making long term plans and that hadn't changed just because the stakes were higher here. I'd always tackled things as they'd come at me, and that was how I was still handling things now. I'd made myself important to Tom, made him see just how useful I could be by offering up the important bits of information, but I wasn't going to rely on only that. My grades were going to be as damn good as I could get them.

"Mmm... I found something," Tom finally mused once he'd finished chewing, eyes sliding back over the lake and just staring out at the surface. I raised a brow, even if he couldn't see it, taking a bite of my own white bread and ham, knowing better than to push Tom. Push and he'd retreat inside his shell like a crab, only the harsh pincers free. And I had no wish to get nipped, not for a long while.

"Cecilia, if I asked you to, how far would you be willing to follow me?"

I had to think, because there were thousands of pros and cons to agreeing to this, to saying something like this. So it was after a long pregnant pause that all I could do was shake my head.

"I don't know Tom. I will always, always be your friend. Regardless of if you're capable of returning those amiable feelings or not. But as for following you? I'm not like the others that you've got together so far. All they see for now is the power-trip, not the after effects. And I do." Twisting my entire torso to look at Tom, I frowned at his truly blank face, running a nervous hand through my hair as the other clutched my sandwich tighter. "I would never betray any trust you placed in me, but I don't know if I can follow your lead. Not now."

Tom popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth amidst the quiet that surrounded us, eyes thoughtful. There for the smallest of brushes against my mental barriers and I scowled, throwing him out even as Tom grinned slightly at the reaction. He was forever toying around with legilimency now, and as a forceful intrusion could damage a seer's mind, and thus, abilities, he was always testing my mental strength. That was why, as soon as I'd found that fact our, I'd had my reason to beg Slughorn for lessons on how to defend myself.

"I suppose I can settle for that. For now."

"For now," I parroted, because we both knew this wasn't the end of this. This was all about what Tom wanted, and what Tom wanted, he got. No exceptions.

It was how long I could last, that was the question.

.

As a perfect, there were a lot of perks included within the job description. However, there was, for myself, one very large drawback.

"Labelle."

"Lestrange."

And that was the male Slytherin perfect. It couldn't have been Alphard who, with Tom's domination of the snake house, was more than happy to talk to me in public and address me as a friend. No, Thuban Lestrange ended up as the Slytherin perfect for my year. In all of his glorious wisdom, Dippet had decided that the opposing forces that were Gryffindor and Slytherin should work together. Starting with the perfects. Of course, Samantha Abbott, the fifth year Gryffindor perfect, was overjoyed to be working alongside Tom Riddle, the most sought after boy to walk the Hogwarts halls this century. As for my partner? Well, I'm sure one can guess.

"I'll take the lower corridors, you the upper?" I muttered, even though the both of us already knew the drill from the previous year. We'd go to each other territories, because otherwise we'd end up letting our own house-mates off with a little slap on the wrist. Lestrange offered up a mute nod, already spinning on his heels and heading for the stairs, one hand casually stuck in his pocket and the other hanging at his side. It was a shame his attitude was so downright rotten, because he wasn't half bad looking.

Rolling my eyes, I twisted around too, taking the steps and absent-mindedly drumming my fingers against the railing as the stairs changed from the current floor to the one I wanted.

Hogwarts was an adventure outside of the books. Before, when I'd been reading their pages, I'd thought this grand castle had been captured pretty well by the words. But as I walk through it's corridors now, it's kind of obvious that nothing would ever be able to capture the beauty of this place, not unless you'd actually visited it, walking through it's very halls. Especially some of the most interesting sights, such as the great hall and the Quidditch pitch. And speaking of points of interest-

I froze outside the girl's bathroom on the second floor, eyes wide as I watched a girl approach from in front of me, crying. Tears in her eyes, glasses in one hand as the other rubbed away at her wet cheeks. I could tell she wasn't really there, that this was all a vision, but that didn't stop me from following the girl into the bathroom, watching as she locked herself in a cubical, the door going with a bang. My feet were rooted to the spot, watching as after a few moments, the girl emerged as a sharp, shorting hissing filled the air. Tones and dialects I'd only ever heard from one person.

And then the little Ravenclaw girl just dropped back like stone. I didn't need to keep looking to see that she was dead, but I still approached the vision body anyway, hands shaking slightly.

I'd seen a good few deaths in my visions before, but this was the first time one would happen so close to home. I already knew who it was, but the lanky hair and pimply face brought it home. In my past life, Myrtle Milner was that silly little ghost girl with a ridiculous crush on Harry. Here she was a new third year Ravenclaw that'd I'd already had to pull out of the toilets countless times last year. I'd long since lost track of the amount of detentions and points I'd deducted from Olivia Hornby, but it didn't stop the girl.

"Cecilia?"

I shrieked, the body disappearing before my eyes as I spun the spot, wand curled between my fingers as my eyes darted around for the source of the threat. Tom stared back at me, lips twitching and a bemused expression on his face. Which disappeared into something that would have been concern on anyone else's face, but was nothing but a mask upon his.

"Why are you crying?"And then his expression fully closed off, a nasty gleam entering his eye. "Was it Lestrange, did he say something again?"

I shook my head, mutely lifting a hand to my face and rubbing it across my cheek, somewhat surprised to feel wet tracks streaking down my skin.

"N-No, it wasn't Lestrange." I may not like the boy, but I wasn't going to set Tom on him. No one deserved that.

No one.

* * *

_I curled up in the sheets slightly, peeking out at my visitor and grimacing in pain. Curse damage was not fun to recover from. _

_An ugly expression overcame Tom's face, and I froze in place for a second,eyes wide and terrified. This was what I'd never seen before, this was the Tom Riddle that would one day lay waste to the wizarding world. And all over the fact Walburga Black had dared to touch what was his. _

_Sat up on the white sheets of the hospital bed, I watched the dark haired first year with caution alight in my eyes. _

_And just like that, Tom's face was once again blank, a mask that set me more on edge than what the previous expression could ever do._

_"I see. I believe I need to have a talk with Miss Black."_

_The next day, word was Walburga Black had been carted off to St Mungo's. According to a wide eyed Alphard, there'd been a scream from the common room that'd sent everyone into a panic, and by the time they'd gotten there, a helpful Tom had been assisting Walburga onto a sofa whilst someone ran off to get Professor Slughorn. Her left shin bone had shattered, with pearly white shards sticking out of her pale skin. And I knew for sure Tom had gotten that talk with Miss Black._

_It was just a shame for her that actions spoke louder than words in Tom's book._

* * *

I choked slightly, looking back at where the body of Myrtle had just laid. The space was empty, but the image still danced before my mind.

"W-What are you doing in the girl's toilets?!" I rounded on Tom, who held up his hands in mock defeat, though the ugliness still remained in his eyes. I really didn't need to answer that question though, because I knew exactly why he was here. Why he was stood by the sink that didn't work. My stomach swirled.

Throwing open the door of the nearest stall, I barely made it to the toilet in time before everything I'd eat in the past six hours came back up. Even as my abdomen clenched my mind spun.

Tom was here because this was the entrance to the Chamber. He was going to be the death of Myrtle Milner.

It took a minute, but at last my body settled and I could stand, stumbling slightly as I went back out towards the sinks.

Tom was stood with a frown on his face, having already retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket as he calmly waited for me to explain. I didn't even look at the sink I picked, but when I turned the tap and nothing but a quiet wheeze came from the pipes I cracked, a little laugh breaking through my lips. Of course I pick the snake one.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Splashing water up onto my face and then accepting Tom's offered handkerchief, I swiped at my lips and grimaced when he vanished the cloth.

"Do I really need to say anything?" I asked, running a suddenly trembling hand across my brow. Tom cocked his head to a side slightly, a curious expression upon his face as his gaze travelled lazily from me, to the sink and then back.

"I suppose not. Perhaps it would be best if you were to go and rest Cecilia, and I shall finish your rounds."

I wanted to disagree, but as a tremor ran through my legs, I knew it was unwise to fight. I'd just end up passing out halfway through my rounds, and Tom would still finish my rounds after taking me back up to the tower.

"Fine."

* * *

Tom

Laying back on the soft mattress of his bed, Tom Marvolo Riddle ran a calm hand through his hair, thoughtful frown upon his face.

Cecilia had seen something, that was without doubt. And something big if he went by her reaction.

It was irritating, not being able to rip into her mind and find out everything, but he didn't want to break her. Especially with how useful she was. True she was muggle-born, but she certainly had her uses. The year she'd been at Hogwarts and he hadn't had been the first year he'd never gone hungry, seeing as he'd been sent a package of food every week. Second year, she'd gotten the other Gryffindors to leave him alone by calling on a favour that Potter owed her. Her grades were good too, she was the strongest student in her year, which in turn pushed the other Slytherin students to do better with their studies to make sure they weren't shown up by the 'mudblood'. And if Tom got smarter followers out of the deal, then who was he to complain?

His thoughts turned to the basilisk, and it's instructions from Salazar. Protect the castle from the Muggles, and any magical children they may have with the intent to harm. It shouldn't be that difficult to twist the order ever so slightly, so that the giant snake would start killing off the muggle-borns.

And yet, Cecilia was a muggle-born. Perhaps the only useful one.

She was the only one who had absorbed everything she could of the wizarding world. All the others were insistent on bringing the Muggle world into this one. They didn't see that the Muggle world was inferior. Wizards were superior, Tom had realized that before he'd even gotten to Hogwarts. Before he'd even heard of the place.

The question was, how to get Cecilia fully on side. He couldn't risk her turning on him, she knew far too much. He needed to trap her somehow, collar her like he had the rest of his Knights. But how?

She was clearly unsure, the friendship route was getting him nowhere. She'd never bow to the sweet nothings he hissed into the ear of all the female Slytherins, and she knew him well enough to know any infatuation he played to her was false. Perhaps, perhaps it was time for the fear tactic then? A shock introduction to his great ancestors basilisk should do it. Then Cecilia would be somewhat cowed, yet too loyal to him to speak a word of it. Her Occlumency shields would ensure the information never left her involuntary. And she would never volunteer, he'd got a good enough read on her character to know that for certain.

Of course, the fact he'd be able to inform the basilisk that this muggle-born was not to be touched would bee a boon as well, seeing as she was too useful to be killed off. There were a few useless pure-bloods he'd rather do away with before Cecilia. At least she was intelligent conversation, better than Malfoy and Vaisey, never mind Crabbe and Goyle. Why those idiots never expanded their magic as much as they could, especially since they had an extra eleven years in the magical world to what he had. They just had no drive, they didn't appreciate what they had. The whole society was pretty much one big mess.

And he was going to be the one to fix it.

* * *

**Oh I'm so excited, I've got such big plans for this arc and the next one. Such very big plans. I was so excited I couldn't want to put this up.**

**Yeah, that's a flash-back in there with Walburga. We'll be exploring Tom's vicious collaring of the Slytherins soon enough. I hope I made Cecilia's reaction to her vision somewhat realistic.**

**On the last chapter, those were just a few of the letters sent between them. I didn't see the need to put Tom's up because hey, not much to write about on his front.  
On the pureblood 'she's a seer thing', yeah, they'll value her, but that doesn't mean they'll think any higher of her. **

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


	7. Part 2-2

**All or Nothing**

**_Part 2.2_****  
**_The Snake in the Bathroom_

_x_

_Cecilia_

The weeks dragged on, and Tom never once mentioned my little break-down in the girl's bathroom. I wish I could have ignored it as well, but the second I'd seen Myrtle at breakfast the next day I'd nearly thrown up again. Nearly. I was worried though, because a quiet Tom meant a scheming Tom. The snakes were unusually quiet too, so it wasn't difficult to realize that a storm was brewing beneath the surface. The only question was if it was something bigger than Tom's plans for the basilisk.

Running a stressed hand through my hair, I plucked up the latest little gem from the Room of Requirement, frowning. Ever since I'd arrived in first year, I'd been scavenging from the room, taking whatever I could get that looked like it'd make some money, and then selling it off to various vendors. But not before checking the price I could get for them with the Goblins. And all they wanted was ten percent of what I made. I'd already found four books that'd been thought to be lost forever and several dozen rare books -those I'd kept- along with a multitude of jewellery, cloaks and even the skeleton of some extinct, exotic creature. All the money I'd gotten from selling these nicknack's had been shuffled into an account at Gringotts, so that both Tom and I would have enough money to move out the orphanage once we were of age. He just didn't know about this yet.

Twisting the little golden, jewel encrusted egg back and forth, I smiled at the multitude of reflections it offered me. What the hell a student would have been doing in here with one of these, I had no idea. But it'd certainly sell for a pretty penny, that was without a doubt. Carefully wrapping it up in past newspapers, just to be sure it wouldn't break in my trunk regardless of cushioning charms, I stuff that into the bag I brought with me. I'd shown Tom the room under the guise that I believe it to be something that reflected where we felt safest. So whenever Tom had opened the room that year, it was to the great hall of Hogwarts. And my own was the circus. However, come his second year, he'd discovered the true meaning of the Room of Requirement. And as such, my little thieving trips had had to start earlier, with a lot more caution than before. Mainly because Tom didn't like selling things, he was a hoarder, through and through.

One diamond necklace later and I shrunk the bag down, heading out the room and twisting go and meet up with Alexis when my little moleskin pouch was safely stashed in my pocket. Alexis and I got on quite well, but I'd never be best friend close with him. We were amiable enough though, and had both teamed up together for our Ancient Ruins project. Skipping down to the third floor, I skidded to a halt at the sight of all the people crowded around a patch of wall. They were surprisingly quiet for such a gathering, even if they were murmuring amongst themselves.

Cautiously approaching, I tapped Alexis on the shoulder, his head spinning around then angling down to face me.

"Wha-" The words died on my tongue though, as the bodies before me shuffled just so until I could see the wall for a second. But that was all I needed. '_Slytherin's legacy has been claimed. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware_'. My eyes flew around, looking for Tom, only to find him with a frown upon his face as he casually spoke with the Head-master, whom was grimacing at the wall too. His act was incredible, and I looked away, least I give him away.

"I think we should go back to the tower," Alexis murmured under his breath and I nodded, stepping back and away from the crowd.

I'd get the full story from the rumour whispers anyway.

.

"Are you ready?"

It'd been three days since the writing on the wall, and nothing more had happened so far. So far being the key phrase in that sentence. Currently, I was curled up on the trampoline net the Room of Requirement had conjured up, the familiar sights, sounds and scents of the big top around me. It was a Saturday, my only free day considering I had Quidditch practice scheduled in every Sunday morning.

Sprawled out seven feet away on this too big to be anywhere other than a magic school trampoline, Alphard Black let out a snort, blowing strands of dark hair off his face with a sigh. When it came to spell creation, Alphard was my partner in all things strange and wonderful. I had thought about asking Tom and Alexis to join us, but my rational brain always present problems. Tom's too busy running his empire, and Alexis doesn't even take Arithmancy, which was pretty essential for spell creation. We did have Leander Lovegood, a Ravenclaw, offer up ideas whenever we stumbled into him in the corridor, in that same absent-minded manner his granddaughter would have.

Currently, we were working on a spell that gave the user a mask on their emotions. Alphard had actually gotten the inspiration from Tom, after noticing how masterfully the Slytherin heir played about with his expressions. What we were aiming to do with our spell, was to make it so that your face was remain blank, no expression at all. And then, once we'd gotten that, create a more complex spell that would allow us to change our facial expression with a thought, so even if you couldn't pull of an innocent expression, then the spell would make it happen. The only problem was creating it.

"You really think you've got it all done?" Alphard gave a low heave, rolling several times before his side slammed into mine, our ribs pressed together as he perused my work. Chewing on his lip, he nodded slowly before leaping to his feet, the trampoline surface sending half of my notes soaring about. Struggling to get my own balance, I reached for my own wand, aiming it at Alphard.

"Facies Duae!" A pale blue light shot out the tip of my wand, impacting against Alphard's chest with a bang. There was a blinding flash, and I looked up once my eyes had stopped holding a ball for all those black dots dancing across my vision.

And a scream tore through my thought before I could stop it.

"What? AH!" Alphard let out a cry, very much startled by the second head that'd grown from his collar. The two head's stared at one another, one in muted horror and the other blank face.

"Well, at least we got the blank face bit, right?" I grinned sheepishly, cringing when both heads whirled around to face me.

One still looked very much furious, but the other was the one that spoke, "Yeah, that's great Cecilia, other than the fact my emotions are on another head!" It was painfully strange to watch the blanked face Alphard shout as the other head looked on furious.

"To the nurse?"

"To the nurse."

.

Sitting in the chair beside Alphard's bedside, properly chastised by the matron, I shifted nervously from one buttock to the other, watching as the nurse Jones made attempt after attempt to remove the second head. And preferably undo the damage. The silent head was clearly starting to show how nervous Alphard was, no doubt thinking that maybe he'd be stuck like this forever.

The two of us, thanks to an extra set of eyes -and no, Alphard did not appreciate that when I pointed it out to him- managed to get to the hospital wing without anyone seeing us. I was rushing through my notes, trying to find out what had gone wrong, a missed number here or there, magical influx, wand movement, hell, the incantation maybe?

"What in Merlin's name?"

Both of Alphard's heads, along with my own, spun around to the door, which currently house a very distressed looking Lestrange. He'd clearly been hit with a jinx that saw his hair taking on the typical qualities of a thunderous storm, occasionally spitting out a lightning bolt as he walked. It was a Potter and Longbottom creation, the one that'd gotten them their NEWT grade. It was tricky little jinx too; they'd taught Alexis it, so it was obvious who'd gotten Lestrange. The boy had no doubt come here to demand it's removal, but seeming to think nurse Jones had slightly bigger problems on her hands.

That was very true.

"I've got it."

Triumphantly leaping to my feet, and ignoring Alphard's muttered, "You've done enough," I levelled my wand at him.

"Parce et Vade!" There was another flash of brilliant white light, and Alphard was sat on the bed, back to normal. He pawed at his own face in a cautious manner before letting out a relived sigh, turning to Lestrange, who was still staring at our group.

A look that said Alphard would be explaining what the hell was going on, and tat there was no getting out of it.

.

We sat in in silence, Lestrange's hair now back to it's usual neat curls and Alphard still with his single head. We'd reluctantly allowed Lestrange into our spell-crafting head quarters, which was the Room of Requirement. Our trampoline floor stretched out across most of the room, the walls giving the illusion of the big top circus, yet with our research and ideas still pinned to their surface. My fellow perfect had scrunched his nose up at the muggleness around him, but never the less, sat down and read our notes.

Alphard had gotten bored halfway through and was now leaping up and down on the trampoline, whilst the two of us tried to ignore him. Made significantly harder when with every leap Alphard took we ended up coming a foot off the surface. It did make a nice change though to see Lestrange flounder for his balance, whilst I looked like I'd barely moved. This was, after all, my element.

Finally, he dropped the papers on the mat, catching my eye.

"I want in."

"In what?"

"On this spell creation. You clearly need a third person, and I have a few ideas that I'd struggle to do on my own." As painful as it was to admit, we did need a third brain in on this. And Lestrange was good at Arithmancy and Runes, if somewhat trailing behind my own grades. Even if he was far better at herbology. Alphard had once joked it was because his fellow Slytherin was good at making poisons. I hadn't found it funny.

"Fine. But team effort, team credit. You get out what you put in."

"As if I'd expect anything different."

Scrunching up my face, I smoothly got to my feet, smirking slightly when Lestrange timed his own rise badly and went down in the backlash of Alphard's jump.

"See you next Saturday then, ten o'clock. We get the elves to bring us dinner."

He grunted, finally on both feet and made his way to the door.

Well, this should be interesting at least.

.

Another handful of days past, and it wasn't until Wednesday that I got the chance to pull Tom away from his growing regime. And by pull away, I mean literally pulling him away. I'd found him during the one free period we shared over the week, which I usually spent with Alphard, getting a start on our home-work. Instead, I found myself on the fourth floor approaching a small alcove, having been directed by a multitude of students whom claimed to have seen Tom heading this way.

Thankfully, my twenty minute search was over, for my fellow orphan was sat, getting far too close to be labelled as anything less than friends with one Iris Vanity. She was, as all the other pure-bloods tended to be, exceedingly pretty, with light blonde hair and bright blue eyes, framed by thick lashes. She also came from a rather Dark orientated family, known for their rumoured, big collection on dark tomes. Tom was after something, that was obvious. The younger girl seemed pretty upset that I'd interrupted her time with the Slytherin heir, but honestly at this point, I could not have cared less for what she wished for. Especially in regards to what was on the line.

"What do you want?" Iris also happened to own a rather sweet voice, however in the company of myself and other muggle-borns, she tended to inject more venom than a viper.

"I need a moment of Tom's time," my reply was bland, clearly not interest in starting a fight with her. Tom just sat back and watched, dark blue eyes dancing from one face to the other. It was obvious he didn't seem to think what I had to speak about was important, and was more than happy to watch me fight with his year-mate.

"Well he does not want to spend it with you." Some of these students were so selfish it was unreal. Sometimes, I wondered how Tom put up with it all, but then I remembered, he was the one running things. He didn't put up with anything.

"Yeah, well I still need a moment of his time. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to talk to me about the snake in the girl's bathroom."

Tom was on his feet instantly, and probably would have grabbed my arm to drag me off had he not suddenly remembered he'd been entertaining a young lady just seconds ago. He spun on heel, offering Iris Vanity a low bow.

"My apologies Miss Vanity, but this requires my utmost attention. I hope we can continue this conversation later on. Perhaps when we can find a little alone time?" Wow, he was really laying it on thick. He must be desperate for whatever book she had.

With a low giggle and a sly, "of course Tom," the blonde Slytherin disappeared around the corner, offering Tom one last wink with her thick lashes as she went.

.

The second she was out of sight, Tom all but dragged me to a deserted classroom, slamming the door shut with a casual flick of his wand. Something hard cracked against the back of my head and a low moan of pain escaped my throat before I could help it, stars dancing across my eyes. It took a few seconds of focusing on the bruising grip on both my upper arms before I realized what had happened. Tom had trapped me against the wall. No wonder my head hurt, stone was not soft.

"Why, Cecilia, did you so blatantly say that in front of a witness?" Right, the chamber entrance, the fact Dumbledore can look in people's minds. Didn't even think about that.

A hiss of pain slipped through my parted lips as Tom's grip tightened, impatient for an answer.

"I'm slightly more concerned by the fact you're planning to set a basilisk loose on students Tom. Students!"

"They don't deserve to be here, they're ruining wizarding culture with their muggle ways!"

I gave a hallow laugh, only struggling against Tom's grip for the second it took to realize he wasn't going to let go. No point wasting energy, Tom was bigger and stronger than me. Even if I were to use my considerable flexibility to get out of the hold, Tom was magically stronger too. It'd end in the same predicament, myself pinned in whatever position Tom wanted me, and probably a lot more hurt than my current state. No, it was best to fight this with words.

"You seem to forget I am also one of those muggle-born students."

"But you're not like them, you're learning about this world and leaving the old one behind. Leaving behind the inferior one. You won't get hurt." The undertone of '_You're mine_' was terrifying.

"I'm more concerned by the fact that you're going to end up killing a student. Do you really think they'll keep Hogwarts open if murder is committed on the grounds Tom?" I finally found the strength to meet his gaze, narrowing my eyes. It wasn't fair, the fact he could play whatever emotion he chose across his face. It made arguing with him infinitely harder.

"I'll be careful. Besides, you'd tell me if they did otherwise."

A frustrated growl left my lips, but Tom seemed to have gotten his answers. In fact, he looked somewhat pleased that I didn't deny his previous claim, and the fact he'd get away with it.

"You know Tom, when we first met, I though I could be your moral compass, since you'd so obviously lost your own. But I know different now. It was never lost, you threw it away, didn't you?"

Tom smiled, a genuine, smile, but his eyes were alight with greed.

"And yet, you'll stick around, that annoying voice that always says 'this is a bad idea' to whatever I come up with."

And he was right. I would stick around, I would constantly try to at least tell him what he was doing was wrong, even if I couldn't stop him. And I couldn't turn on him. Not only was it detrimental to my health, but something inside my stomach churned at the idea.

"I'd appreciate it if you were to keep me posted on your visions Cecilia. I also need an hour of your time Friday night."

And with that, he swept from the room, no doubt off to go and charm a book from Vanity. I, on the other hand, dropped to the floor, legs giving out beneath me.

Great. That certainly did not go as planned.

* * *

**Oh I'm so happy to get this chapter done, I've had the compass bit wrote since I first started this story. Glad to finally post it. You wanted more interaction with Lestrange, I've set it up for more Lestrange. **

**Also, a tiny Tom and Cecilia confrontation. They'll be a big one a bit later on. **

**I adore the reviews this is getting, thank you for your super kind words.**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


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